1.10: Alice, Ayuba, and Louis: Experiences of American Slavery

Slavery has existed for as long as humans have lived in settled society, but it was taken to another level in colonial America, and eventually, the United States.  Humans were legally classified as property and treated with intense brutality, while their stories mostly went unrecorded.  This episode seeks to shine a light on three individuals whose experiences were noted for various reasons: Alice of Dunks Ferry, Ayuba Suleiman Diallo, and Louis Congo.  Each lived in a different region of colonial North America and has a different skill set, but the spotlight on their lives in this episode of History: Beyond the Textbook serves as a means of learning about different slave experiences during this time frame.

Key People
Alice of Dunks Ferry: businesswoman, oral historian of Philadelphia
Ayuba Suleiman Diallo: royalty, Islamic scholar
Louis Congo: royal executioner

The third season of History: Beyond the Textbook focuses on the stories of individuals who shaped "America's Crucial Years" of 1783-1790, and runs from October 8-December 24. Catch up on Season One, "America's Colonial Era," and Season Two, "America's Revolution," wherever you listen to your podcasts!

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Transcript

Slavery.  The word conjures up specific images as it pertains to American history, most of which are presumably negative and horrific.  Sure, the system has been around for thousands of years: as long as mankind has lived in settled societies, coercive labor has been present in some form.  It was long considered common practice to enslave prisoners of war in societies worldwide, and in the Western world, the Greeks spoke of slaves as those who were born to serve others.  They were seen as “beneath” those in a higher social strata simply based on their status at birth.  Inhumane treatment of enslaved persons, along with stories of perseverance and the dream, and actuality, of freedom, are universal themes that persist across multiple time frames and continents.  However, when the economic system that has been labeled as the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade began in the 1450’s and amped up in the succeeding generations, something changed.  The topic is highly charged and often controversial because, at least in the United States, we are still living with the consequences of this system that was legally abolished in 1865.  The United States is often viewed as a so-called “nation of immigrants,” and this phrase has often been used to conjure up images of Europeans disembarking from oceanic voyages in search of a better life.  When viewed in the framework of slavery, these passages were anything but voluntary; this was a forced emigration with layers of social, political, and economic complexity that intertwined at least three continents directly.  So, how on Earth can we do this topic justice when it involves millions of voices that have traditionally been omitted from historical narratives, either intentionally or otherwise?  Our model on the podcast thus far has been to explore topics through the eyes of an individual who experienced said topics and further examine what else they accomplished in their lives…but we’re going to take a slight detour from that model for this episode.  Our first act, as always, will set the stage by providing the appropriate background to analyze why slavery developed the way that it did in what became the United States. Then, instead of focusing on one individual, we are going to shine a light on three: Alice of Dunks Ferry, Ayuba Suleiman Diallo, and Louis Congo.  Each of these three experienced slavery in different regions and ways: Alice was born and remained enslaved throughout her lengthy life in Pennsylvania, Diallo was born free in Africa, and eventually returned as a free man, and Congo earned his freedom…and became an executioner.  Each of these lives are meant to illustrate how the abhorrent system of slavery in America is far from a “one size fits all” narrative.  In this episode of History: Beyond the Textbook, we examine American slavery through the experiences of Alice, Ayuba, and Louis.

Act One: Why Slavery?

It’s fairly common knowledge that chattel slavery, or slavery which legally classified human beings as property, was prevalent throughout colonial America and legally continued until the Thirteenth Amendment was ratified in 1865.  But why did it become ingrained in American life, especially the South, after it was legal in nearly every colony prior to ratification of the U.S. Constitution?  And why was Africa the continent that provided the labor for this system?  1450 serves as a convenient starting point for analyzing the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade because it was when Portuguese traders negotiated their first treaties with local African rulers, allowing them to establish armed trading posts.  These agreements initially allowed the Portuguese to take advantage of African trade contacts to gain access to goods from the interior, as well as attempt to keep out any European competitors.  They also allowed them to gain access to human capital: slaves that were considered the ideal labor force to work the sugar plantations that were established on the tropical Atlantic islands of Madeira and the Canaries.  Plantations required a large number of slaves to produce a cash crop, meaning that the results of their forced labor would be exported to markets throughout the world.  The initial workforce, the indigenous Guanche, died out due to the introduction of European diseases, so the Iberian enslavers took advantage of Trans-Saharan caravans that had delivered criminals and prisoners of war from West Africa to Mediterranean markets for centuries.  The Portuguese purchased about 1,800 slaves annually by 1500, laying the groundwork for the pattern for the purchase, transportation, and exploitation of coerced African labor.  This process was initially justified by the Iberian experience in the Reconquista, or the violent reclamation of formerly Christian lands that were under Muslim control: the prevailing belief was that Africans were not Christian or “civilized,” to use European definitions.  Neither of these absolute statements would prove to be correct.

Quantifying this process is tricky because we risk diminishing the horrific experiences of those who were forced or born into slavery, but the overall numbers allow us to grasp the enormity of this process.  What occurred on a series of Atlantic islands would be repeated in the Western Hemisphere following the voyages of Christopher Columbus: arrival on lands considered to be “undisturbed,” the massive death of the indigenous population due to conquest and disease, and the eventual importation of African labor.  From 1501 to 1866, 12.5 million Africans were forced onto ships due west, and about 15 percent of these people died en route on the “Middle Passage,” which was the longest leg of the journey.  Of those that made the journey alive, only about 450,000 ended up in what is today the United States.  It sounds odd to use the phrase “only” when referencing a number that large, but this means that less than five percent of these individuals were bound for the British North American colonies; Haiti received about seven percent, Cuba about the same amount, and Mexico received about 100,000 more than the United States; over half went to Brazil.  The economic answer to the “why” is the same as in the Madeiras and the Canaries: sugar.  There are really no technological innovations that can make the process of harvesting sugar cane any less brutal or laborious, so colonies that depended on sugar as their major export consistently demanded a larger labor force.  It was said that the lifespan of slaves in British North America, or the 13 colonies, could be measured in years: the lifespan of a slave on a tropical sugar plantation could be measured in months. 

In regard to coercive, or forced, labor, the initial preference, at least for the British North American colonies, was European indentured servants.  Most textbooks will point out that an indentured servant was generally contracted to serve 4-7 years, after which they would be granted their freedom and provided a plot of land to call their own: this isn’t inaccurate, but the vast majority of them ended up serving a full seven years in one form or another.  And these seven years were not always easy affairs: even though Stephen Hopkins, the subject of episode 1.4, completed his service as the clerk for the reverend of Jamestown, the majority were forced to complete tasks that traditionally have been associated with chattel slavery.  As time went on, fewer Europeans were willing to sign away four years of their prime years indentured to someone else, and enslaving the local indigenous population didn’t work because those who hadn’t perished due to European diseases could easily escape on terrain that they were familiar with.  Symbolically, August 1619 is viewed as when slavery “began” in the United States because that is when the English ship White Lion docked in Jamestown carrying, as merchant, tobacco aficionado, and husband of Pocahontas, John Rolfe, remarked in his journal, “20 and odd” Africans from Angola.  These were certainly not the first Africans to land in the Western Hemisphere, nor were they the first transported as part of the slave trade, and there is dispute as to whether they were enslaved or indentured with the opportunity to earn freedom.  The point is that by the time indentured servitude of Europeans fell out of favor, the American colonies were active participants in the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade, and every colony was a participant in some way.  Our three stories focus on individuals in three different colonies, which meant that they were shaped by different worldviews, and affected by different sets of laws.  But they all help begin to scratch the surface of the complexities and the horrors involved with American slavery.

Act Two: Alice of Dunks Ferry

Our first narrative takes us to Pennsylvania, the colony that was the brainchild of Quaker William Penn, and focuses on a woman known by multiple names, but we will refer to her as Alice of Dunks Ferry. One aspect of Alice’s life that immediately stands out is her age: according to Alice, she was born enslaved in Philadelphia in 1686, two years after her parents arrived from Barbados, and she ended up dying in 1802…at the age of 116!  No records exist for her formal birthdate, but there is certainly no doubt that she lived a very long life.  This subsequently means that, even though she was moved to nearby Dunk’s Ferry at age 10, she bore witness to influential events in Philadelphia, and thus, American, history.  Alice lived through a large portion of Pennsylvania’s colonial history…as well as the American Revolution and the convening of both Continental Congresses in Philadelphia, the messy interwar period, the convention that led to the writing and ratification of the Constitution, and the early years of the republic.  Realistically, if you were to place her into a history textbook, the real question is…where on Earth would you place her?

Beyond the years Alice spent on the planet, there are two aspects of her life that have traditionally garnered the most attention in most publicized records: her physical appearance, and how revered she was for the stories that she told.  Unfortunately, few accounts place an emphasis on her entrepreneurial spirit: for four decades, she ran a ferry that shuttled passengers from Dunk’s Ferry to Philadelphia.  Dunk’s Ferry was across the Delaware River from Philadelphia (the same Delaware River that George Washington would famously cross on Christmas night to defeat his Hessian foes…but let’s not get ahead of ourselves; that’s a story for next season!).  Even though she was enslaved, her honest reputation led her master to allow her to collect all ferry money for those forty years without any supervision.  As for her physical traits, it was written that she rode on horseback to Christ Church every Sunday and participated in Epicopalian services; remember that this was a six-mile ride, and she completed this ride every week until she was 95!  It was also at these services that she worshiped with men like George Washington and other early leaders of the United States, and these men honored and respected her; Alice didn’t just bear witness to early American history, she was an integral part of it. 

An 1804 writing that included a section on Alice stressed that her hearing remained impeccable through the end of her life, but her sight began to go when she was 96 (which probably explains why this same work emphasized that she rode to church on horseback until she was 95).  Her sight was completely gone by age 100, at which point her master finally saw fit to absolve her of her daily responsibilities (but not to free her), so she would spend her days rowing to the middle of a stream and returning with a full catch for dinner.  Her sight apparently returned, although not fully, two days later, but she lost all of her teeth and had a head of completely white hair by the final year of her life.  I reference these physical traits not only to help paint a picture of who Alice was, but also…that’s partially how she was remembered.  Her appearance and use of her senses factors heavily into accounts of Alice, but they were secondary to her role as what is now officially called an “oral historian” of Philadelphia.  Everyone…and I mean, everyone, respected the sharp memory and storytelling abilities of Alice, and sat mesmerized by her accounts of the early days of Philadelphia; how it was a “wilderness,” how the indigenous population “hunted wild game in the woods,” and even how “the beasts of the forest were prowling about the wigwams and cabins in which they lived.”  She claimed to have lit the pipe of William Penn himself when she was a child, and even knew the European founders of the city.  Subsequently, her primary audience were the descendants of these men who clamored to hear the firsthand accounts of their ancestors…delivered by Alice of Dunks Ferry, a woman who may have been enslaved in life, yet remained tenacious in mind and spirit.

Act Three: Ayuba Suleiman Diallo

Our first narrative took place in Pennsylvania, which is geographically part of the “Middle Colonies.”  Many American students learn in school that Pennsylvania was started and founded by William Penn, a Quaker who established Philadelphia just five short years prior to the birth of Alice of Dunk’s Ferry.  “Pennsylvania” actually means “Penn’s Wood,” so this man was certainly in the good graces of the English king, and Penn envisioned his colony in the same vein as John Winthrop: he felt that he would establish a visionary new society that could be emulated on both sides of the Atlantic.  However, there weren’t enough laborers to complete all of the work, so Philadelphia imported 150 slaves in 1684 (significant for a town of 2,000), and Quakers purchased most of them.  This certainly seemed to clash with their religious beliefs, and the historical record indicates that they were well aware of the hypocritical nature of the “Society of Friends” treating people as property; but, as was the case in all other English colonies, Pennsylvania allowed it, and thus Alice’s status was legalized for her entire life.  Our next narrative takes us a bit further south to the land that is remembered for its origin as a “safe haven” for Catholics: Maryland, and the story of Ayuba Suleiman Diallo.

Those of you who are into world history may have heard the name:"Suleiman” before and probably associate it with “Suleiman the Magnificent,” one of the most well-known sultans of the Ottoman Empire.  It is not surprising that Diallo was himself Muslim, but what is surprising is how he came to be enslaved in Maryland, albeit for only two years.  Estimates place the total number of enslaved Muslim Africans at 10-20 percent, and in the early years of Maryland, such individuals were generally allowed to practice their faith in peace.  Much of what we know of the life of Diallo, who is also referred to as “Job,” comes from a biography written by Thomas Bluett, an enlightened Marylander who held numerous legal and religious roles.  Diallo dictated his story to Bluett, who published an account with the long-winded name “SOME MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE of JOB, THE SON of SOLOMON THE HIGH PRIEST of Boonda in Africa; Who was a Slave about two Years in Maryland; and afterwards being brought to England, was set free, and sent to his native Land in the Year 1734,” four years after Diallo was forced into slavery in Maryland.  (Apparently, literary titles were rarely “short and sweet” in colonial times).  This book became a true sensation, and by this time, Diallo was living in London and helped translate an English version of the Quran, debated religion with British scholars, and even assisted the British Museum in handling Arabic artifacts (did we mention that he was very learned and literate?).  What follows is a brief account of his story, as retold through the words of Bluett.

Diallo’s grandfather established the town of Bonda, which was below the Gambia River and grew to be a commercial center.  His father was considered by Europeans to be the equivalent of royalty as he grew wealthy through business and held the title of “imam,” meaning he was held in extremely high esteem in his Islamic society.  Diallo was thus raised not only as Muslim, but he also learned something of the customs of English high society.  At 15 he became a husband, and he took a second wife at age 17, fathering three sons with his first wife and a daughter with his second (tellingly, Bluett’s account only mentions the father of these wives, not their actual names.)  In February 1730, Diallo was given the task of traveling along the Gambia River with two servants for the purpose of selling two individuals into slavery and purchasing other goods from an English ship on the river.  His father gave him strict orders not to go to the side of the river that his people did not control; long story short, he did, and Mandingo raiders captured him and sold him into slavery for a few cows.  Once in Maryland, he had a rough go of it, given that his life was no longer considered to be his.  He ended up tending to the cattle of his owner, a man named Tolson, and ran away but was captured and thrown in jail.

It’s at this point where Thomas Bluett officially enters the narrative.  An initial hardship that Diallo encountered in Maryland was his inability to communicate with other slaves; Bluett found a slave who could translate Diallo’s story into English, and Bluett began to understand just who this individual was.  Tolson gave Bluett permission to take Diallo to the eventual capital of Maryland, Annapolis, where his background as a scholar and Muslim intrigued all he came into contact with.  His Islamic faith was seen as unusual, and keep in mind that the vast majority of colonies would have laws that specifically forbid literacy among slaves, so the positive reception he received was certainly unusual.  Two years later, Diallo was taken to London; while en route, he learned to speak English thanks to Bluett and the captain of the ship, while James Ogelthorpe, Georgia’s founder and director of the Royal African Company (which was explicitly set up to transport potential slaves to the Western Hemisphere), went to work raising money to buy Diallo’s freedom (which he accomplished…for 45 pounds).  He engaged in the activities that have been previously mentioned, but the same year that Bluett released his book, Diallo made a specific request: he wanted to go home.  His request…was granted.  He arrived home to find that his father had died in his absence, and one of his two wives had taken another husband, but his children and other wife were all still alive when he returned.  His position allowed him to live a comfortable life until his death in 1773, but he attempted to build positive relations between the three continents in which he spent his life: Africa, Europe, and North America.  Ayuba Suleiman Diallo, the captured Muslim royal who was forced into slavery, inadvertently helped introduce a tactic that would eventually raise awareness of the true horrors of slavery: the slave narrative.

Act Four: Louis Congo

In examining the story of a man who is known as Louis Congo in Louisiana, we start with an understanding of the system that was known as the Code Noir, which translates to “Black Code.”  Keep in mind that, by the time this code made its was to Louisiana in 1724 after originating in the French West Indies, Louisiana had been under Spanish control, and was now under French control, would go back to Spanish control after the Seven Years’ War, and under French control again once Napoleon strong-armed Spain into returning it…until he sold it to the United States in 1803.  And that doesn’t even begin to reference the numerous Indigenous nations who really controlled most of the territory of Louisiana, or the maroon communities of escaped slaves that caused fits for plantation owners along the bayou.  All of this serves to help us understand the true conglomeration of cultures that converged to make Louisiana, and especially the port of New Orleans, a true melting pot.  This was the background for Louisiana’s Code Noir, which had the purpose of imposing absolutist, Roman Catholic rule in a region considered to be a bit of a backwater.  This contrasts with English models where we have seen varying degrees of democratic self-rule, while autocratic France was only nine years removed from the death of the “Sun King,” Louis XIV.  As with any law code, it wasn’t always followed to the letter, but it was a code that sought to recognize slaves as human beings: all slaves were required to be baptized as Roman Catholics, married as Catholics, and understand Catholic doctrine.  Slaves could possess, but not own, property, and were even allowed to show up and testify in court…even against their masters.  Mixed marriages were formally forbidden…but they did occur, and baptismal records indicate that this was not even close to strictly followed.  The Code Noir also allowed for brutal forms of torture, officially banned by masters, but carried out by a “royal executioner.”  This brings us to our primary narrative of this region, and the last of this episode.

Born in Central Africa, Louis Congo was forced into slavery in 1721, but he was freed the year after the Code Noir became law in Louisiana.  Of the three former slaves who appear in official government records, Congo is the one we know the most about.  So named for the king of France, and the region in which he was said to have been born, Congo was offered the job of royal executioner in 1725, and Congo laid bare his requirements to accept this despised position: he and his wife both receive emancipation, land for himself, and significant monetary compensation for carrying out his duties.  His wife was never freed, but she was permitted to live with him on the land he was granted: his other requests were honored, especially the one where he demanded high fees.  Records indicate the amount he would receive for each punishment, from 5 livres for placing an iron collar around an offender’s neck, up to 40 livres for either breaking someone on a wheel or burning them alive.  You heard that correctly: breaking them on a wheel or burning them alive.  Being burned alive is exactly as it sounds, but breaking on a wheel consisted of strapping the offender to a large wagon wheel and breaking their bones, one by one.  The helpless victim also faced the scorching sun while this happened…all with a public audience.  Congo’s most infamous instance of doling out this punishment came in the early 1730’s when he broke eight slaves who were captured for attempting to overthrow the colony and take control for themselves.

As you can expect, Congo was a hated man, but he was also a survivor.  He executed Africans, Native Americans, and Europeans alike, so he was thus despised by all races, ethnicities, and social classes.  At least two attempts on his life were made, but Congo survived them all.  He grew extremely wealthy through his position, and bought tracts of land just outside of New Orleans.  He was literate and could sign his own name, which was unusual for the times.  As previously stated, his wife was allowed to live with him, and although she was not actually emancipated, she did not have to engage in any slave labor for the rest of her life.  We don’t know when he was officially relieved of his duties as royal executioner, but it’s likely that this position was offered in exchange for freedom.  As a free African in Louisiana, Louis Congo was a true outlier; prior to Spanish repossession of Louisiana in 1763, a French census reported that there were 90 free people of African descent in New Orleans.  90, and this is nearly 70 years following Louis Congo accepting his government position.  Louis Congo’s life demonstrates that, even when freedom was granted, it was often exacted at a terrible price. 

We’ve deviated slightly from our script and looked at three individuals in this episode: a centenarian who was enslaved for her entire life, yet was revered and respected by all, an Islamic slave from high society who was freed after his unique scholarly skill set was discovered, and a slave who was freed upon his acquisition of a horrific occupation.  These individuals were highlighted because they all seemingly experienced slavery in different ways, yet some things certainly remained consistent.  The lack of control over one’s life and body remained the same regardless of time or region.  The brutal treatment that slaves were subjected to also was constant; even in Louisiana, where formal servants such as Louis Congo were supposed to be the only once to torture slaves, yet it was common knowledge that masters still engaged in such actions.  Our stories haven’t emphasized these as much because, again, each of these three possessed skills that the leaders of each region they resided in valued and sought to utilize; this wasn’t the case for the millions of slaves whose narratives, unlike those of Diallo, went unrecorded and were unfortunately lost to history.  This episode is simply meant to be an introduction to this complex subject, and it certainly will come up again in subsequent seasons.  We also hope this serves as an impetus to explore the topic even more; new books and works of scholarship are produced monthly that add richly to the American story, with stories that deserve a captive audience.  We only wished to do our small part, and thank you all for allowing us to explore with a different format.

Join us next week, as we return to our “normal” format, and fast forward to the mid-1700’s and the start of an often overlooked conflict that helped usher out the end of the colonial era: the French and Indian War.  And whose experiences will we examine as to how this war began?  None other than the “Father of our Country”...George Washington.